His stomach grumbled and attempted to tie itself into a knot, forcing Harry to finally venture out of the room and drag himself into the showers. His body still ached with exhaustion, but the warm water was soothing, and ten minutes later, he was finally ready to face the world again.
As he descended the stairwell, he could hear the buzz of excited chatter. There were too many voices in the common room for the late afternoon when most should still be in classes or the library…
"I heard Hagrid beat a troll to death with his bare hands!"
"Snape was trying to take over the school, I tell you-"
"Amanda from Hufflepuff said the headmaster exploded two trolls with a glare-"
"Filch was eaten alive, and nothing was left from his corpse-"
Confused and with a rising sense of dread, Harry finally entered the room, which was quite full of students.
"Hey, look, it's Potter!"
"Did you kill a troll with your bare hands?"
"Lestrange and Taylor won't say a word-"
"Can you teach me-"
A deafening bang interrupted the commotion.
Richard Rowan, the seventh-year prefect sitting by the window, slowly lowered his wand, "Enough of your gossip. Professor Flitwick said Potter is not to be disturbed, and some of us are trying to study here!"
The housemates quickly toned down their excitement at the older boy's outburst and left Harry alone, but many were still reeling from the shocking sound earlier. The other seventh-year prefect, a plump girl named Elyna Selwyn, was like a cat whose tail had been pulled. "Oy, Rowan, you lout, are you trying to deafen us all?!"
Tuning out the ensuing argument between the two seventh years, who were constantly breaking up and getting together, Harry's gaze wandered around the room.
It seemed like there were no classes today - he could see Carmichael and Belby play Exploding Snap instead of attending second-year DADA.
"There you are, Harry," he turned only to see the concerned Diana, accompanied by Juno, whose cold stare seemingly deterred anyone from approaching him. "We got worried when you didn't show up for breakfast."
"I'm fine," Harry nodded gratefully at their concern. "Only a bit tired and hungry still. Walk with me to the kitchens?"
Both nodded, and the group made their way out through the clamour.
"I thought they were off-limit for students?"
"Only if you disturb or annoy the cooks." he absentmindedly explained.
Juno finally broke her silence as they reached the staircase, "Professor Flitwick also summons you to his office at your earliest convenience."
Bellatrix's daughter was as quiet as usual, but Harry vaguely felt her demeanour was a tad warmer than before.
After a moment of hesitation, he decided to ignore the hungry rumble in his stomach - a meeting with the Charms master would take a handful of minutes at most. "Well then, I should probably go there first."
Diana and Juno wordlessly followed him as he changed directions towards Flitwick's office. Then it struck him; Harry had made himself two friends again. He had been too exhausted to think about it last eve or after waking up, but the familiar feeling was there. No matter how much Harry wanted to deny it, the two girls had found their way behind his defences.
Hanging out together was fun and easy, but…
Merlin's beard, they had ended up right in the middle of danger because of him!
Somehow, Harry had done it again. He swore this would be the last time Juno and Diana got in trouble for him. Thankfully, there had been no problems from the staff for the stunt, and the concern was greatly appreciated; he had no fear of trolls, while the brutish man-eating monsters were a significant threat to a pair of first-year witches.
"Gosh, what you did yesterday was amazing!" Diana's excited voice interrupted his musing while Juno nodded quietly in agreement. "I still can't believe it happened."
"Me neither." His mind couldn't help but wander towards the ridiculous comments he had heard before entering the common room. "Hey, do either of you know what all the commotion was about earlier?"
The two girls began explaining, and Harry's head started spinning with every next word. The Hogwarts Rumour Mill was working at full capacity, but Dumbledore made a small announcement at breakfast and cancelled today's classes for three days of mourning, which only served to feed the rampant rumours instead of quelling them.
Edwin Gamp being relieved of his prefect badge over ditching them last evening was minor compared to the rest.
Seven trolls? Filch dead? Snape dragged out by the DMLE in cuffs?
What in Merlin's saggy bollocks had happened yesterday?!
Harry always knew Samhain hated him, but this was too much, even by his standards.
"Filch's funeral is tomorrow," Diana noted sombrely. "Nobody seemed particularly… sad about the caretaker's passing though. In fact, I heard some Gryffindors are going to throw a party."
"Being cantankerous and nasty made him no friends," Juno said. "Generations of students were cowed in compliance by his presence here. And everyone prefers to pretend squibs don't exist."
The tall girl was precisely on the point, as usual. Harry was a tad sad about Filch's passing, but those feelings paled before the news of Snape. The loathsome Potions master kept up the subtle jibes and veiled insults and was constantly prodding Harry during Potions, and the boy couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and joy at his arrest.
The sole prospect of not dealing with the greasy-haired man in the future made him giddier than catching the snitch during a challenging Quidditch game.
They finally arrived before Flitwick's office, and Harry hesitantly knocked on the varnished ebony door.
"Enter!"
"We'll wait for you outside," Juno nodded at him and tactfully pulled Diana, who seemed to be hesitating whether to follow him.
Flitwick's office had not changed from his last visit, and the professor was behind his low desk, toiling over a stack of parchments. The diminutive Charms master immediately gave him his usual proud smile, "I'm glad you're fine after last night's ordeal, Mr Potter."
"Nothing some rest couldn't fix. You called for me, Professor?"
"Please take a seat," Flitwick's firm but sorrowful voice made him cautious, and Harry took the fancy tapered chair with trepidation. "I am afraid I must be the bearer of ill news. My former apprentice, Felix Fawley, the current head of DMLE, sent me a warning. Are you aware of what happened to your parents' wands?"
The question stumped Harry. It was a topic he had never honestly thought about.
He scratched his head and asked, "Weren't they destroyed that night?"
"Your father's wand was indeed destroyed, and its remains buried with him. But it turns out Lily's wand survived."
"Oh." It was all he could say.
"Indeed, I cannot divulge much since it's part of the ongoing investigation," Flitlick regretfully clasped his hands. "But I keep in touch with all of my former apprentices, and Fawley told me to send you a warning because he feared a leak at the Prophet."
"A warning? Where was my mother's wand?"
A sad sigh escaped from the troubled professor. "In the possession of Severus Snape, and now, the Magical Law Enforcement. Having a second wand unregistered is a crime, and a stolen one even more so."
Harry had always thought he couldn't despise the Potions master any further, even after viewing the memories in Dumbledore's pensive.
But he was wrong.
His mind felt oddly numb, but fury seared through his veins like molten lava, and hunger and exhaustion were forgotten. He took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to centre himself under Flitwick's mournful yet understanding gaze.
Eventually, the fury and adrenaline bled out, and Harry slumped on the chair, even more tired.
"Can… can I get it back? My mother's wand?"
"After the case is closed," Flitwick reassured him gently. "Fawley hoped he could collect your testimony of last night's events. You don't have to, of course, but everyone else who had failed to attend the feast has been questioned."
The words made his heart race, but Harry remembered nobody should know about the Marauder's Map nor his break-in into Filch's office. Neither of which had anything to do with the trolls.
"Why have I been excluded?"
"Well-" The Charms master began a lengthy explanation that just made him numb but at least cleared up much of his confusion.
It was like the Carrow twins had told him a few weeks earlier. Dumbledore had pushed the Wizengamot for a magical gag order on his person years ago, keeping his location secret or owls being sent to him unless Harry provided the address himself. But that was not everything; it was intertwined with some temporary law that prevented any mention of his person in public and legal ministry documents until he reached thirteen.
And well, the Dursleys would have indeed freaked out by a constant stream of owls carrying gifts, messages of well-wishes, or even curses…
It was no wonder the Daily Prophet had not written a single word about him until his fourth year.
The headmaster had also barred the DMLE from questioning Harry for some reason, probably out of a misguided desire to see him have a happy and worry-free childhood.
Harry couldn't help but snort - that hippogryph had flown away long ago.
"Professor, if I provided a statement, would the investigation be concluded faster?"
Flitwick nodded genially, "Quite possibly so, Mr Potter."
Harry still had the Marauder's Map from his father. If things were the same in this world, the invisibility cloak would also be in his possession by Christmas. Yet, he knew little of his mother and had only inherited her eyes…
The prospect of having a memento, a token from her, ignited a longing deep within him that he did not know existed.
"Alright, I'll do it." The Charms master took out an empty roll of parchment and flicked his wand, activating the Dicta Quill. "I couldn't stand the celebration, so I decided to take a walk and clear my head -" Suppressing his hunger, Harry did his best to recount last night's event while keeping his visit to Filch's office to himself.
The sooner he could have his mother's wand, the better, especially if Snape could enjoy a long stay in Azkaban for it.
3rd of November, Sunday
"Those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?" Fawley's baritone boomed over dim courtroom ten as the members of the Wizengamot were glaring at Snape, who sat in the magical chair bound by chains.
Not a single wand was raised; even the Elder Wand remained in his sleeve as Dumbledore had decided to abstain due to a conflict of interest, and it was understandable. The bitterness Severus held had finally come back to bite him in the arse. Despite his hatred of arrogance, the Potions master developed an arrogant streak of his own.
Despite being the head of Slytherin, Snape failed to nurture proper relationships with most of his more influential students and managed to either alienate them or create grievance and resentment. And now was the time for comeuppance.
Someone from the DMLE, probably a wizard with a grudge, had leaked Snape's theft of Lily Potter's wand to the Prophet. Stealing from a poor orphan was bad enough, let alone Harry Potter - that turned the public away from the man irrevocably. Worse, parts of the interrogation transcript had also reached the newspaper. As a half-blood, Severus had no legal immunity against truth serums, even if they weren't admissible in the Wizengamot. Ironically, his latest creation, the Veritaserum, was used on the Potion master, and many of his previous misdeeds had come to light in the public, which was rightfully outraged.
It was done with the explicit agreement of the DMLE, as they did not even bother to investigate the leaks.
One did not get into Voldemort's inner circle without committing a slew of malignant deeds, and Severus had been part of it for over two years before coming to the headmaster. Intellectually, Albus knew about it and refrained from inquiring about specifics after Snape had given him an oath. Yet, hearing the grisly details turned even his stomach.
Even the newly elected Fudge had decided to righteously reverse the pardon Bagnold had given after consulting with him.
Albus could only sorrowfully agree after being handed the full interrogation transcript. Over three dozen uses of the Unforgivable curses and many other illegal magicks, almost a dozen murders, twice as many tortures, muggle-baiting, even rape, and many other heavy offences. His heart was still heavy with regret - truth be told, the headmaster had thought Severus had spent most of his time under the Dark Lord brewing potions or creating curses.
And Albus had refrained from asking, lest the truth had turned out too much to bear, as it had proven to be.
"And those in favour of Dementor's Kiss or the Veil?"
Many wands rose in the air. The elder wand pulsed hungrily as if hearing the death knell, forcing Albus to clear his mind to resist the sudden urge to raise his wand. Sighing inwardly, Dumbledore opened his eyes and counted with trepidation. Twenty-nine votes, just shy of achieving the required two-thirds for an execution, albeit with very little.
Still, the Potions master was not without his connections, but it pained the headmaster to see all of them were with the darkest members of the traditional faction.
To his knowledge, Lucius tried to get Severus to accept the best solicitors to defend him before the Wizengamot in a bid to push for the infamous imperious defence, but… Snape had declined.
A glance at Severus's dark eyes told the headmaster why; the Potions master was angry. He was furious with himself, angry with James and Harry Potter, angry with Dumbledore, the Dark Lord, and wizarding Britain. Severus knew. The Chief Warlock could see it in his gaze; the Potions master knew he was being sacrificed in a play by Voldemort and himself, and his drunken confession about possessing Lily's wand had sealed his fate, regardless of any other guilt. He grudgingly accepted his lot, but the rage remained there, simmering under the surface.
From what Dumbledore heard, Snape had not uttered a single word after the interrogation had brought his crimes out in the open.
But the anger and fury were not new - Albus knew how to spot old pain when he saw one. Harbouring so much resentment and loathing for the world was unhealthy, but Severus had gotten quite good at hiding it until it finally boiled over.
Dumbledore could tell Snape hated himself the most but would die before admitting it even to himself.
It was questionable if even the best solicitor could get the Potions master out of this mess. Still, it seemed like Lucius Malfoy had employed every measure and pulled every string to save his friend's life; he seemed to have pulled in most of the neutral moderates and some of the department heads.
"In favour of life imprisonment in Azkaban?"
Everyone but the headmaster and Lucius Malfoy raised their wands. This was it; many faces were filled with jubilation and glee, while Fudge was red with excitement - he was starting his term as a Minister with quite the aplomb. At this moment, Dumbledore felt too old. His oath still held sway over Severus, and now the man would reluctantly follow his vow or die, even if he somehow managed to get out of Azkaban.
Fawley ceremonially slammed his hammer. "Well then, Dawlish, Kingsley - bring Mr Snape to his new accommodations."
The chains binding Severus to the magical chair immediately fell, and the two Aurors, wrapped in red robes, roughly dragged the silent Potions master out of the courtroom. This whole thing was his doing; he had pushed for a full pardon for Severus over a false premise in hopes of using the man in the future. The vow binding the Potions master stayed true for all the good it would do in Azkaban, and he would either keep to it or die.
It had seemed like a good idea back then, but Albus knew all too well that time had its way of bringing even your slightest mistakes into the light one way or another. Maybe deciding to pull Snape to his side would have paid off in the future… maybe not.
Even Divination couldn't truly tell now, but the point was moot. All that was left was to suffer the consequences. His decision to push for Snape's pardon would inevitably result in some backlash, but it was far from the first time he faced public scrutiny.
Albus's feelings were mixed; the interrogation revealed that Severus had not committed a single crime after being pardoned, aside from possessing Lily Potter's stolen wand. It was a pity his lacklustre tenure as a head of the Slytherins and Potions teacher at Hogwarts failed to be the redemption the man could have earned for himself if nothing else.
Somehow, Voldemort had managed to outplay the headmaster with a single move, exactly ten years after being vanquished. The coincidence was too much and confirmed Dumbledore's suspicions about Tom Riddle's continued existence.
Life had a way of giving bitter lessons, but now was not the time to dwell on his follies. He had to start moving to counter Voldemort and the threat to his school.
Dumbledore signalled to the head of DMLE and quickly made his way out of the courtroom.
A minute later, Felix Fawley met him in one of the empty rooms on level ten.
"You wanted to meet me, headmaster?" Dumbledore nodded at the not-so-subtle inquiry about which of his official roles this meeting was requested for.
"Have you concluded your investigation of last Thursday's attack?" None of the crimes officially attributed to Severus included the trolls' presence at Hallow's Eve. Fudge had hastily pushed forward the Wizengamot session to get the whole thing done and dusted.
"Everything points to Snape," Fawley sighed, seemingly tired. "The man was already researching trolls and their nearby habitats for potion ingredients. The spells cast by Lily Potter's wand were particularly incriminating, especially after he admitted to taking it from her corpse. Traces of forgetfulness potion had been present in his body on Friday, and we all know the man is bitter and full of hate. One or two circumstantial pieces of evidence might not be enough to incriminate him, but a dozen? When everything points at him, we have no choice but to indict him. Even if we cannot prove it with complete certainty, not that we needed - his prior crimes are enough."
"Thank you, Director Fawley." Dumbledore nodded, even as he acknowledged his former student's subtle accusation. It was not forgotten that he had vouched for Severus, and while the headmaster was sure that no one would believe he was aware of his crimes, it would still rankle many.
Voldemort had been thorough as usual - he might have forced Albus into an untenable situation, but he revealed his hand early. The earlier preparations needed to be revised… significantly, especially if his former student attempted to be so heavy-handed again.
"Headmaster," the head of DMLE was still here, face now troubled. "Many in the Wizengamot are worried about the safety of their kin in Hogwarts."
"They need not worry," Dumbledore assured firmly, putting all his conviction in his gaze. "I have taken heavy measures against future mishaps." The head of DMLE nodded in acceptance. Albus estimated that it would take less than a week for his finest alchemical masterpiece to be complete, and he had even acquired the assistance of his old mentor for its creation.
Anyone thinking they could brute force their way and attack his castle through the front door would be sorely disappointed in the future, Samhain or not.
"One final thing, headmaster. My brother and the rest of the Board of Governors have selected a new caretaker."
Dumbledore ran a hand through his beard, hiding his surprise. Argus Filch had been buried just yesterday, and none of the Board had attended the poor squib's funeral. "Already? I hope they are aware any appointment must pass through me one way or another."
"Indeed, but a unanimous decision was reached that the new caretaker must also be capable of defending the school if need be."
"Such a hire would be too costly for a group who usually bickers for every galleon," Albus noted dryly.
"Well, it seems that the threat against the students has loosened their purses," Fawley laughed though there was little joy in it. The Head of the DMLE then excused himself and vacated the room, leaving the old headmaster alone with his thoughts.
The damage to his prestige seemed to be showing already. The Board was being uncharacteristically bold; no official notification had been sent to him yet.
But at least they saved him the trouble of looking for a new caretaker, not that Albus would fail to vet the new one. Now, the headmaster only had to convince Slughorn to come out from retirement instead of being a substitute teacher for a week or two. Doubtlessly, the old Potions master would try and extract some concessions, but the temptations to teach and network with the best of the new generation was never something Slughorn could resist.
Perhaps mentioning a few impressive students for him and a can of his favourite crystallised pineapples would do.7th of November, Thursday
"Enough theory for now," Flitwick squeaked out, much to Diana's relief. The endless stream of words about the difference between visualisation and will and how essential it was for casting had her feeling numb. Her wrist, too, after writing it down with a damned quill. At least she stopped blotching her ink all over the parchment. "Now, let us return to the levitation charm-"
Diana tuned out the diminutive Charms master and stared at the white feather on the desk before her - she had succeeded in casting it last Thursday, the first one to do so after Harry and Juno, but most new spells were covered in two or even three subsequent lessons.
Yet Harry had proven that there was more to spells than wand-waving. Even now, the green-eyed boy and Juno were to the side, practising advanced material.
It was a week after All Hallow's Eve, and Diana still felt conflicted. Her dreams were uneasy, filled with squelching, falling bodies and a heavy, suffocating stench. According to the rumours, Filch's funeral was also a sombre affair—but the unpleasant man was quickly forgotten after his coffin was buried in an unassuming cemetery in his hometown.
What irked her the most was that everyone acted as if nothing had happened. Well, not everyone. Harry was training with a fervour that would rival the religious zealots of yore and carried himself around with an intense focus and stoic determination. Diana could understand his motivation and why Juno's efforts had been redoubled. Their duels in DADA had gotten outright brutal this week, but neither uttered a word of complaint despite being bruised blue underneath the robes.
It was not all bad, though. Snape's arrest and conviction to life in prison for a plethora of vile crimes did not surprise her too much—it seamlessly fit the unpleasant image the man had presented. Diana did not miss the old Potions teacher one bit, but the fact that a terrorist was allowed to teach students like that had her spine crawling with ants.
Sure, Slughorn - a plump, walrus-like older man - was leagues better than Snape ever was. His Potions lesson was interesting, exciting, and far easier to understand, and that was just the first one on the basics. It was a little wonder, though - supposedly, Slughorn had been Head of House Slytherin and Potions Master here for half a century before retiring. Although Diana could do without the old professor gushing over Juno, Harry, and that git Fawley of all people, just because his uncle was the head of magical law enforcement or something…
Shaking her head, Diana focused on the feather before her. Normal magic would not cut it anymore.
After a moment of hesitation, she added her spare quill.
Swish and flick, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
Unsurprisingly, only the feather she aimed at levitated, and Diana felt an odd mixture of excitement, annoyance, and disappointment.
Back in her muggle school, she had not only been the top of the class but the year - and with little effort at that. Being in third place would have stung far more if Harry and Juno had not poured ungodly effort. As her father always said, talent and hard work always beat just talent.
Alas, her efforts were for nought. Levitating a single feather was easy enough, but no matter how hard she tried, visualised, or willed it, the other remained on the desk as if glued to it.
There was so much more to magic than waving a wand and saying some words, of course, but now Diana was beginning to understand the depth of the statement.
By the time class ended, her frustration had mounted significantly.
"You look at that quill as if it kicked your owl," Padma noted from the seat beside her as most students rushed towards the Great Hall for lunch.
"I don't have an owl!" Diana snapped before wilting at her friend's unamused look. "Sorry, I'm trying to levitate two at a time."
"That requires advanced mastery of the spell and in-depth knowledge of theory." Juno walked over with the barest hint of interest in her blue eyes. As usual, MacDougal trailed after her like a shadow. The Scottish girl was the most unassuming, with her silent presence, light-brown hair and chestnut eyes.
"Or greater proficiency of your intent and will," Harry also joined, looking at Diana with something she couldn't decipher. "There are many facets to magic."
"Intent? I thought it was all about visualisation and willpower."
"Well, willpower is a fancy way of saying your control. And control is honed over time with arduous practice," Juno added in her silky voice. "Intent is… harder to explain. It's a mental focus for the spell similar to incantations and wand motions."
Diana ran her hand through her dark auburn curls. "And let me guess, it's something that comes with practice too?" This would explain why Juno and Harry were so ridiculously good at magic—the more they did it, the easier it got.
"Indeed," Harry gave her an encouraging nod. "When you fully master a spell, it will come as easy as breathing, and you will know where its limits are and how to overcome them. Ultimately, the levitation charm is designed with a single target in mind. Breaking that limit would strain your magic, body, and mind."
"So, just like silent casting?" Diana asked. After seeing her friend do away with the incantation, she dug into the library, only to find out it was an almost dishearteningly advanced skill. And was it a bad thing?
"Yep," Padma popped out with a smile. "There are no shortcuts in magic, but I heard from the upper years that you would get the chance to modify spells later. Maybe that would be similar to what you're trying to do?"
Was that what Harry had done on Halloween? Did he modify simple spells unconsciously? Or was it on purpose? She would not be surprised if he had mastered the spell or his intent. Regardless, Diana still had no idea how exactly it was achieved. Magic was magnificent and grand, giving her a goal to strive for besides good grades. Oh, the possibilities… The desire to learn more, to be able to do more, to bend the very fabric of reality to her will with a flick of her wand roared within.
Yet levitating two things at the same time was too hard. Far harder than just being able to do the spell…
The road to bending reality to her will would be long indeed.
Shaking her head, Diana reluctantly got off her seat, grabbed her school bag, and joined her friends as they made their way to the Great Hall.
"Talent also matters," MacDougal broke her silence. "Some struggle in one discipline, while others come as naturally as breathing. Over time, you'll find maybe Charms, or even Transfiguration or other subjects easier than the rest."
"How do I find out where my talent lies?" Diana asked. So far, none of the subjects were particularly difficult or easy. Things were not too challenging once she got used to quills and the jarring difference between the magical and muggle curriculum.
"I think inclination or affinity is more accurate than talent," Padma coughed. "And, well, it usually runs in the family with the purebloods. For muggle-borns - you'll probably have some idea by the end of the first year."
They entered the Great Hall and were quickly drowned by the commotion of eating and chattering students and barely managed to find a place at the end of the Ravenclaw table. Harry received a few more errant glances and hushed whispers; his deed of slaying two trolls had gotten out, but her friend had remained tight-lipped about it, and the interest and attention had begun to dry out.
As Diana piled her plate with sausage rolls and mashed potatoes, she couldn't help but overhear the fifth-year girls next to her gushing loudly about Slughorn. It wasn't a great surprise; it felt as if she had learned far more in one lesson with Slughorn than in a whole month with Snape.
"Did you hear - Rowan's been invited to the Slug Club!"
"Do you reckon we have a shot of joining?"
"What's a Slug Club?" Diana couldn't help but ask, and the two-fifth years turned to glower at her but halted. Harry had that effect on people; the famous short-boy had a mean, unrelenting, no-nonsense glare that just made people back off. If that didn't give them pause, his recent reputation as a 'troll-slayer' did. Juno's was not any less intense; her icy eyes could chill you no matter how warm or how many layers of clothing you had, and she was now staring at the pair of older years. Her two friends could look particularly mean, and nobody wanted to pick on Flitwick and Quirrell's favourites.
"A gathering hosted by Slughorn to network with his more prestigious students," Juno was the one to answer with a tinge of amusement as the fifth-year witches looked away abashedly. "The old Potions master loves collecting talent and connections, but our headmaster has barred him from recruiting younger students, so you must be at least a third year to get invited."
"He also loves bringing over his successful former students," Harry added as soon as he swallowed a mouthful of roast beef, earning himself a curious look from Juno. Diana felt her friend didn't like the new Potions master much, but it was a mild feeling of distaste at most, or perhaps annoyed wariness. At least it's not that cold, silent loathing that he had reserved for Snape.
"I just hope the new caretaker will be at least better than Filch," Padma groaned.
MacDougal snorted, only to choke on her pumpkin juice, and it took her a few moments of coughing to clear her throat. "That's a low bar to clear."
While Slughorn was here Monday morning, the caretaker had yet to be replaced, and all sorts of weird rumours swirled around the school. Some said Dumbledore would axe the position entirely or even employ an enchanted homunculus or a retired hit wizard from the continent.
There were also quite a few articles in Daily Prophet slamming the headmaster for his choice of staff and outright calling Filch useless or a danger to the children. If muggle-borns were frowned upon in Wizarding Britain, squibs seemed to be received with scorn and indifference.
"The Board of Governors is looking for a more capable man," Juno shrugged. "Yet unless a serious amount of Galleons is forked out, I don't see anyone of significant skill taking the post."
"So, who is taking care of Filch's duties now that he is gone?" Diana asked between bites of potatoes.
"Probably the house elves. Those buggers would love the extra work." Harry shrugged, followed by knowing nods by the rest, making Diana blink in confusion... Elves? Like in the Hobbit? She shrugged, preferring to finish her meal. It didn't matter much - if dragons, goblins and trolls were a thing, why not elves too?
Hopefully, there wouldn't be orcs hiding around…or a dark lord bent on world conquest. Diana stifled a snort, causing her friends to stare at her weirdly. Did the wizards read books like Lord of the Rings? Was Tolkien a hidden squib to imagine such a vivid, vast world?
They continued lunch, chatting leisurely about other inane things when Harry finished first and stood up, probably to continue his relentless quest for training, both body and magic. Well, either that or exploring around Hogwarts. Though Diana wasn't sure why he bothered exploring still, it felt like the green-eyed boy knew the castle better than everyone else.
She tugged on Harry's sleeve before he could disappear to do his thing again; there was a free slot after lunch, during which the first-year Ravenclaws did their homework or leisurely strolled out on the grounds when it was warmer.
"Do you mind if I join you for morning jogs?" The memory of running for her life while out of breath was still too vivid. The idea came suddenly, but since Diana already had trouble sleeping, it wouldn't hurt to get out of bed early.
Someone, sounding suspiciously like Padma, muttered something that suspiciously sounded like 'mental'.
"Sure," he nodded amiably without asking any annoying questions. "See you girls in Herbology!"
Harry rarely asked questions, and his willingness to helpfully explain or aid when requested was endearing. With a wave, he walked away, causing the girls to stare at him with exasperation.
"Merlin, Potter never stops, does he?" MacDougal retorted with wonder.
"No," Juno said, head tilted as her eyes were glued on Harry's back until he disappeared behind the wooden doors. "There's a reason he's the undisputed top student in our year." Diana couldn't help but feel a sliver of challenge in the tall girl's tone. But even that was said gracefully, just like most things about Juno.
"So," Padma chimed in after finishing her curry soup. "Are you girls excited for the upcoming Quidditch match?"
9th of November, Saturday
Harry looked at Diana as she was still gasping heavily, letting out misty puffs in the chilly morning air with each laboured breath. Her reddish-brown hair, which reminded him of rust, was damp with sweat. While going through so many stairs daily was good for your stamina, it showed that it was the first significant physical exertion the muggle-born girl had done.
"Gets easier after the third day," Harry encouraged. Today, he hadn't pushed himself too hard to conserve his strength for later. Also, their runs had started a tad later since Diana joined them, which was a welcome change. Half an hour more sleep was a welcome counterbalance to the strain he was putting his body through.
"It also does help plenty with your control," Hestia Carrow added while eyeing Diana as if the girl were some exotic animal in the zoo. Still, the Slytherin twins were not impolite or arrogant with his muggle-born friend, making him feel relieved. "I've had far less trouble with Transfiguration since I joined Harry, and now getting an EE grade on the practicals is no longer a struggle."
"Physical fitness would help you in duelling and Quidditch," Juno said, elegantly smoothing her crumpled training robes as they made their way back to the castle. The tall girl had come a long way since she joined him in the morning runs half a month ago. Juno's dedication and drive impressed him, and her stubbornness alone easily rivalled Hermione's.
The mentions of the wizarding sport grabbed Diana's attention.
"Why is none of that ever mentioned?"
Harry couldn't help but snort at the tired but angry huff that left the petite girl. "Well, it is if you know where to look for. And magic tends to make one lazy, especially since everything is at a wand-flick distance. If you keep this up and get a good broom, you have a good shot at joining the Quidditch team next year."
Not that it was a considerable achievement. The Quidditch teams were not too picky, and unless you were a lazy, talentless hack with a third-hand outdated broom, it was not too hard to enter a house team as a reserve if you tried hard enough. However, during his six-year stint, he had never seen a girl on the Slytherin team. Judging by the excitement radiating from Diana, the thought of Quidditch gave her more resolve.
Just as they passed by the Forbidden Forest and Harry was lost in his plans for the day, something tugged on his right sleeve. As his companions were all to his left, he absentmindedly looked down, only to freeze. A pair of shining white eyes were gazing at him with undisguised curiosity, belonging to a pitch-black leathery draconic face. The young thestral nudged its snout against his arm again with some insistence. For a short moment, his mind was blank until realisation set in. With some trepidation, Harry slowly withdrew his wand and offered it to the skeletal foal.
"Harry? Why have you stop-"
"What the bloody hell is this?!" Juno's question was interrupted by Diana, staring at the young thestral, eyes wide, and wand in hand.
The three other girls were now alert, wands out.
"There's nothing there," said Hestia, squinting at the darkness. Or not so dark as the faint light from the east illuminated half the sky now, heralding the arrival of dawn.
"Don't you see it?" Diana pointed warily at the foal, whose snout carefully inspected his wand. "It's a winged horse, all dark, skin and bones, with the oddest face like a lizard."
"A thestral?" Flora choked and looked like she wanted to cry. "They are omens of death." Harry would definitely not mention the other handful of adult thestrals watching placidly from the treeline.
"And completely harmless," he murmured while carefully running his free hand over the majestic dark mane, making the foal lean into his hand. Diana watched with worry while the other three stared sceptically at his hand, which seemed like it purposelessly ran through the empty air. He patted the silky mane one last time as the young thestral seemed to have lost interest in his wand. "Go, run along back to your parents now."
With a happy shriek that made Flora jump, the foal galloped away, disappearing into the treeline with the rest of the herd.
"It's gone, right?" Hestia inquired, her gaze skittishly roaming around as if someone would leap out of the darkness to attack her.
"Yeah, don't worry," Harry reassured her. "Thestrals are very smart and docile when trained well, and you have nothing to fear unless you attack them."
"It looked creepy," Diana huffed breathlessly, "why couldn't the rest see them?"
"Well, thestrals are invisible unless you have witnessed death. A human death, not something as trivial as a fly. It's probably what gives them the infamy." The skeletal horses could be lethally vicious, not that he'd tell that to a bunch of scared girls. Harry would not be surprised if some fool provoked a herd and paid dearly for it. "I heard the Hogwarts herd pulls the Hogsmeade carriages for the older years, and there has not been a single incident."
And that seemed to make the Carrow twins look squeamish instead of reassured, and he inwardly cursed himself for the slip of the tongue.
"Who did you see die, Diana? If you don't mind me asking." Juno's eyes narrowed with undisguised curiosity at their shortest friend. Harry goggled at the blatant lack of subtlety, but perhaps that was a sign of the girls' deepening friendship? He would not deny that his curiosity was piqued and turned to Diana.
"...My family was visiting a charity of my dad's firm in Kent. It was two years ago, and there was a bombing by the IRA… too many limbs." The girl's amber eyes lost their usual brightness as she recalled the memory.
For once, Juno's face softened considerably, and she gently squeezed Diana's shoulder. The muggle-born girl shook her head as she regained her composure and smiled, albeit with less cheer than before. "Forgive me, that was inconsiderate."
"It's fine. My parents took me to a shrink, and I don't mind it much anymore. At least those thestrals looked wicked cool." The petite girl glanced at the murky forest, where the thestral foal circled the herd before they walked further in.
"What's a shrink?" Hestia asked, mismatched eyes staring with confusion.
Harry stared into the distance, his gaze glazing to a few flying shadows over the forest. With a sigh, he started walking and joined his companions. The rest of the journey to the castle was spent in relative silence as Diana explained about the psychotherapists and the faces of the Carrow twins were filled with child-like fascination. Hary fondly listened with half an ear as his eyes wandered at the horizon where the sun shyly peeked from the misty treeline from the east.
It looked majestic.
"Well, this is new," Juno muttered as they reached the front lawn. The gate was flanked by two enormous gryffins made entirely from some shiny metal with a dull golden tint. No, not exactly gryffins, as they seemed to have scales and far too many spikes instead of feathers and looked like a mixture of a dragon and some scaly feline instead of an eagle and lion. Despite their long, jagged claws, the limbs seemed strangely humanoid. Harry scratched his head in confusion, unsure if the new additions had been here when they left the castle in the dark.
Whoever made the statues had put a lot of effort into them, as the detail was incredibly lifelike down to the last spike. They looked both lethally dangerous and beautifully mesmerising.
"I haven't seen that one in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," Diana said, face filled with awe.
"I don't think it's real." Harry shook his head. "At least I haven't read any mention of such a thing." Although knowing certain people, such a monster could be created in the flesh through cross-breeding…
"It's all made of pure Orichalcum." Hestia approached the right statue and inspected it with zeal.
Diana yawned, tiredly outstretching her hands upwards. "I thought that was a myth?"
"In the muggle world, maybe." Juno hummed, but even her eyes glimmered with interest at the new statues. "It's a mythical alloy of gold and copper that only master alchemists can create."
They gawked a few minutes more at the magnificent statues, but the chilly morning air eventually chased them away to the castle's warm confines.
All of them retreated to the common room, and after a warm shower and a change of clothing, they reconvened in the Great Hall just before breakfast began.
The tables were quick to fill, as today was the first Quidditch match of the school year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, and the air was already buzzing with anticipation. To his surprise, most Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs seemed to have equipped themselves with silver and green scarves in overwhelming support of Salazar's house. While the Puffs and the Claws were mostly neutral when the other two rival houses played, Harry remembered most of them supporting the Gryffindors.
"Why's everyone supporting Slytherin?"
"Longbottom," Padma whispered, making him blink in confusion.
What did Neville have to do with… oh. The Indian girl pointedly looked at Juno, who was gracefully devouring a few pieces of roast chicken without a care. Harry had almost forgotten the utterly stupid fight had caused the Gryffindors to stubbornly back Neville out of house pride but had earned the ire of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in the process. It wasn't that they wanted to support Slytherin as much as they cheered against Gryffindor.
Although Wood had somehow picked McLaggen for a seeker of all people, Harry doubted his former house could clinch a victory with this talentless hack on the team.
"Attention, please," Dumbledore stood up, and the chattering quickly quieted. "Today, I want to welcome our newest member of the staff - Grigori Petrov, who has graciously agreed to join as the Hogwarts caretaker!"
Harry slowly joined the polite but hesitant applause that echoed through the hall. The headmaster motioned to a middle-aged, balding man who had appeared nearly unnoticed and joined the edge of the staff table. Tall and bulky, dressed in an interesting leather coat, and with a wicked scar running up his neck towards his jaw, the new caretaker looked far more formidable than Filch, reminding Harry of Moody.
"Damn," Padma was staring at the man with some admiration and interest. "He definitely looks like something."
"He ought to," Juno said, tone heavy with surprise. "Grigori Petrov is an infamous monster hunter in Eastern Europe."
"A monster hunter?" Diana asked the question swirling in Harry's mind. This profession was not something he had heard of in his previous world.
Juno swallowed the last piece of her chicken fillet and carefully wiped away the errant grease from her lips. "It's a rare calling fraught with danger. Trolls, werewolves, vampires, banshees - monster hunters specialise in dealing with all sorts of creatures and magical beasts. But most don't live long or are just glorified wands for hire."
Clearly, Petrov did not lack skill - Harry had seen less-dangerous-looking death eaters.
"How is he infamous?" Padma prodded curiously.
"Well, he was said to have cleared out a vampire den alone and almost singlehandedly hunted down trolls in Bulgaria to near extinction." Which was a sizeable feat of brutal, dogged persistence, considering the dumb brutes bred like rabbits and were better at surviving than cockroaches.
While admittedly an interesting new addition to the staff, Harry's mind was elsewhere.
Tuning out the rest of the conversation, he focused on his meal while his thoughts drifted to his plans. By the time Harry was finished, enthusiastic students started streaming out of the Great Hall in droves, headed for the Quidditch Stadium.
"Harry, wait for us to finish," Diana huffed in exasperation, still having a sizeable portion of her breakfast uneaten.
"I think I might just nap instead," he lied with a yawn.
Padma shook her head with amusement. "Well, nobody makes you get up at six every morning."
"But… this is the first Quidditch match of the year!" For the first time, Diana seemed stubbornly determined not to let go.
"Watching others play isn't particularly exciting," Juno came to his defence, but that statement seemed to earn her a few scoffs from the older years who were walking by on their way out.
"I'd rather write my Transfiguration essay instead," MacDougal also chimed in. "McGonagall gives too much homework, and it's due on Monday."
"Besides, it isn't Ravenclaw playing." Diana deflated, and Harry couldn't help but feel bad. His friend had been so enthusiastic about it… yet his plan was too important, and today was the perfect day.
With a nod, Harry turned away and headed out, but a smile appeared on his face as he heard Juno promising to accompany the muggle-born girl and Padma. One positive thing had happened after the unlucky Samhain - a welcome camaraderie formed between the two girls, which had turned them from uneasy acquaintances to friends.
His way to his room was interrupted by the eagle-shaped bronze knocker with its annoyingly soft voice again. "At night, they come without being fetched. By day, they are lost without being stolen. What are they?"
Some days, Harry really hated the thing as it delayed him a great time, and getting stuck in the front of the common room for minutes was shamefully mortifying. So he had owl-ordered Ridley's Riddle Compendium from Flourish and Blots, as it had most of the classical riddles and puzzles and their answers.
At least this one was easy enough. "The stars."
With an approving chime, the door to the Ravenclaw room swung open.
An errant glance around his room told him Nyx had left on one of her excursions again, and Harry carefully unpacked the Marauder's map on his desk - or at least the part with the Seventh floor and the Gryffindor Tower.
House pride was a great thing, especially for the hotheaded Lions. Slowly but surely, the few footsteps in the tower left for the lower floors on their way to the Quidditch Pitch. A grin found its way to his face - only a single smudged name remained unmoving on the premises.
Peter Pettigrew.
Thankfully, Percy had not taken old, sleepy Scabbers to spectate the match; otherwise, Harry would have had few options aside from approaching Percy for the rat directly or going to the staff with the map in hand, things he wanted to avoid if he could help it. This was the perfect opportunity that drove him hard for the last week.
Yet his eyes couldn't help but slowly comb the map once more. No trace of Tom Riddle or Voldemort could be seen on the school grounds, no matter how he looked. Even Quirinus Quirrell, the only person Harry suspected, was sitting by Sybill Trelawney in the middle of the stadium, surrounded by an enormous cluster of names.
"Mischief managed." Pushing down his trepidation, Harry tapped the map, folded it and returned it to his robe's inner pocket.
His preparations for this day were numerous - from bringing a rat cage charmed unbreakable to waiting around the corner of the Seventh floor for the last few evenings to spy the Gryffindor password.
Thankfully, very few students had remained in the castle, most on the lower floors or the library. His way to the corridor with the Fat Lady remained smooth without any surprise encounters, allowing him to charm his school tie to the familiar gold and red and change the colour of his hair to dirty blonde with a splotch of ink splashed on his face, hopefully making him unrecognisable to the portraits.
"I haven't seen you before," the plump witch dressed in pink stared at him from the frame.
"Fortuna," he muttered hoarsely.
The Fat Lady inspected him for a long, nerve-wracking moment, and just as he started getting jittery, the portrait creaked open, revealing the stairway to the Gryffindor common room.
Harry sighed with relief and quickly made his way up. The room was painfully familiar, but the cosiness that used to comfort him now felt unwelcoming.
His heart raced like a drum as he sneaked to the fifth-year boys' dormitory. Thankfully, there were no traps or obstructions along the way. Even the door was unlocked with a simple Alohomora.
The room was surprisingly clean and ordered, but there was a tiny problem. Harry could see no rat here, no matter how hard he looked.
Suppressing the apprehension, he quickly unfurled the map again and desperately searched for the two footsteps denoting Peter Pettigrew. Hunting down a rat would be impossible if Harry couldn't get the drop on the slippery bastard. He had hoped that the traitor would have been napping - something Scabbers almost always did, but it seemed that his luck only got so far. It didn't help that his current arsenal of spells was sorely lacking.
After a few tense minutes, Harry found the rat down one of the hallways on the Seventh floor, moving in an oddly slow and leisurely manner.
Cursing in annoyance, he quickly left the Gryffindor tower and silently approached the rat's location. Just around the corner, he cautiously slowed down; his palm felt sweaty while holding the pale wand.
"Stupid feathers, I found him first!"
Just around the corner, the familiar pitch-black snake was on the floor with a knocked-out rat, missing a finger, dangling from her mouth. Nyx was rearing in a challenge against his snowy owl on the window's outer sill.
Harry stared with stunned disbelief at the surreal scene. Hedwig was barking and hooting at the snake as they fought over the rat, and he was sure they could see him.
At that moment, Harry only managed to hide his face in his hands with an exasperated sigh.
He counted his lucky stars for his companions' assistance. While Harry managed to hide his plans from his classmates, it seemed he had failed to do the same for his pets, who thought this was a hunting game. It was hilarious and sobering because it only made him aware of how many assumptions his plan relied upon, not to mention the dozens of glaring holes.
Still, any lingering doubts about Nyx's hunting capabilities were quickly dismissed; the snake effortlessly knocked out the rat before Pettigrew could even consider turning to his human form or escaping.
It was not that great of a surprise in hindsight since snakes and owls were far better at hunting rats than humans. However, it also made him feel foolish for not even considering asking his companions for help. Was his stubborn desire to do everything alone getting in the way?
"Mr Potter," Flitwick greeted him with his usual excitement. "How may I help you?"
"Professor," he nodded hesitantly and brought out the unbreakable cage, where the rat lay still under a full-body bind, but his beady little eyes moved around furiously. "Nyx found this rat saying he smelled human, and her senses are impossibly sharp."
Both of those things were true. Nyx, almost too big to remain coiled on his forearm unnoticed, slithered out of his sleeve at the mention of her name and proudly bobbed her head in confirmation.
The Charms master instantly grew solemn, and his delicate wand was already in his hand.
"You did well bringing this to me, Mr Potter. I see you are wisely keeping the animal in a full-body bind. Step back from the cage."
Harry did so, and the Charms master gently flicked his wand, making the rat glow blue. This must have been some sort of animagus-revealing charm because Flitwick's face turned grave.
With a sharp stab of his wand, the cage was opened, and the rat was ejected onto the floor. Scabbers shuddered, and his transformation was reversed, revealing the familiar small, hunchback stature with the hateful ratty face, capped by his unkempt colourless hair.
While the full-body bind turned its target completely rigid, it left it conscious, and Pettigrew's small, watery eyes were fearfully bouncing between him and the diminutive professor. Harry would have stunned the rat, but the fourth-year spell was still elusive to manage, so he settled on the good old Petrificus Totalus.
Flitwick, however, seemed to have no such problems. "Stupefy!"
The red bolt slammed into the immobilised Pettigrew, turning him still. The Charms master leaned closer to inspect the knocked-out man. "As I live and breathe, Peter Pettigrew!"
"Wasn't he supposed to be… killed by Sirius Black?" Harry played along as his head of house removed his spectacles and carefully wiped them clean before inspecting the man on the floor again.
"Very much so, Mr Potter. Oh, my former apprentice is going to love this!" Flitwick's surprise turned into glee, and Harry's apprehension quickly faded. Felix Fawley, the current head of DMLE, was precisely why he had come to the head of his house. "I hope you do not mind if I keep your name away from this mess, Mr Potter, lest you want to invite unwanted scrutiny on Nyx and your abilities?"
The serpent perked up at hearing her name.
"It would be for the better," Harry agreed softly while running his fingers over Nyx's inky scales; he had no desire to deal with the Ministry or the press if he could avoid it.
At least Fawley was capable. The man had managed to throw even Snape into Azkaban, so hopefully, Pettigrew would not pose much of a challenge.
Author's E